


Love Isn't Just A Walk In The Park

by IJWtE_MW



Series: Dog Walker AU [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, dog walker au, orginal female character(s) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IJWtE_MW/pseuds/IJWtE_MW
Summary: Evgeni Malkin suffered a career ending injury before the draft. Instead of wallowing in Russia, he opens a pet store in Pittsburgh and avoids sports like the plague. And then Sidney Crosby walks in his front door and asks if he can take the dogs up for adoption out for runs with him. What can Geno say but that he's weak for a nice smile, a better ass, and a frankly obnoxious laugh?
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Dog Walker AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676662
Comments: 35
Kudos: 230





	1. And So They Meet

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've finally decided to port this story from my tumblr (ijustwanttoexist) to here. I'll update this once a week. Hope y'all like it.

Geno will admit to pretty much anyone that asks that the reason he got more help for his pet shelter was so he didn’t have to deal with the morning shift, or even mornings in general. He’s not even ashamed to admit that the moment they had enough money traffic going around he completely took himself off mornings and divided it between his two employees.

So when he gets a text from one of his morning shift workers at way too early in the morning, he elects to roll over an ignore it. Which was apparently the wrong choice, because a few minutes later his phone _rings_.

Geno groans and grabs his phone. He stares at it blearily for a moment, then swipes to accept the call.

“What you want?” he groans loudly.

“Okay, so,” the caller starts, and Geno feels bad for a moment because all he wants is for her to get to the point. He’s never disliked talking with Sara before, even likes the way she’s comfortable enough around him not to use her you’re my boss voice unless there’s someone important around. But right now, at the moment, he wishes she would.

“There’s this guy who just walked in and he asked if we’re looking for dog walkers? Apparently, he lives close and jogs in the morning when he’s not away for work, and he’d love to take a different dog out when he can for some exercise.”

Geno blinks at his ceiling. “Ask if he can wait. Want to come in, meet strange man who jogs before sun is up.”

Geno pulls the phone away from his face and levers himself up gingerly. They’d had freight come in yesterday, and a long soak in the bath and sleeping on a heating pad in the night had only done so much for the ache in his back. He’s just gotten himself up to standing when he hears a voice back on his phone.

“…come back?” he just catches.

“Sorry, put down phone for a second. Say again?”

“He says he can wait or he can come back, whichever is more convenient for you.”

Geno wants to groan. He wants to schedule a meeting with this strange man, and then climb back into his bed and sleep until he has to get up for his shift. But he’s also already out of bed, and he has some paperwork he’s been putting off.

“Tell him I’ll be in half hour. Can wait or come back, whatever he like.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him. See you soon. Don’t forget to bring your heat packs,” she says as a final parting, then hangs up before he can respond. He grumbles about insubordinate employees as he goes through a highly abbreviated version of his normal routine.

He grabs a packet of pop tarts and a breakfast drink for his breakfast, and grudgingly grabs his heat packs before heading out the door with terrible bedhead and slightly wrinkled work clothes. He speeds to work a little more than usual.

He parks in one of two employee spots, grabs all of his things, and makes his way into the store. The only person in the store is his employee, who gives a wide-eyed look at his appearance.

“Morning, G,” she says.

“He leave?” he asks as he makes his way behind the counter towards his office.

“He’s in the back with the dogs,” she supplies. Geno nods and goes into his office. He chokes down half a pop tart while he waits for his computer to boot, then another half while he waits for it to log in. Then he goes about dredging through his old files for the specific paperwork he’s looking for.

When he first opened this shelter, he had hoped it would be more enthusiastically received. He’d had some paperwork made up for this specific instance, but had never had a chance to use it. He found it after a few minutes of scouring, then opened it to read through it quickly.

“Printer on?” he shouted to the front.

“It is now,” he got back a few seconds later. He pressed print, then shoved the last pop tart into his mouth and chugged the drink.

He stretched as he walked out of his office, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had formed from leaning over his desk. Today is going to be a long day otherwise. He accepts the newly stapled form that Sara hands him with a thank you, and glances through it one last time.

“So are we really going to let some strange man walk off with our dogs,” she asks.

“What form is for. Get his address. Send police after him if he steals dogs.”

“I didn’t even know we had a form for that,” she says.

“Very old. Never used.” He gets lost in reading through the papers, familiarizing himself with what’s really on it so he doesn’t look like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His head pops up when he hears the door to the kennels open and sees the mystery man walk into the front area.

And, well, if Geno thought he could get away with swearing in Russian, he would have enthusiastically. But he also recognizes the man with the small happy smile on his face approaching the counter, even though he’d rather not, and he knew this man would surely understand whatever swear words he used. Most hockey players were multilingual when it came to swear words, and he knew for certain that Sidney Crosby had at least the one Russian player on his team.

He takes a moment to appreciate what little he can see of the form of a professional athlete in jogging shorts and a dark t-shirt, before focusing purely on the man’s face. It wasn’t a hardship, with eyes and lips like that.

“Are you the owner?” Sidney asks as he approaches the counter.

“Yes, am owner. Call me Geno,” he says and holds out his hand.

“Sidney,” the other man says and takes it.

“Have paperwork to go through,” he says and holds up the packet, “and maybe have other question for after you sign. Come back to my office?”

Sidney agrees, and they go back. Geno sinks into his chair and watches as the other man settles close to the edge of the guest chair.

They go through the paperwork slowly. There were five pages in all, and Geno read through every line and sign every spot marked for initials. And then they’ve both signed at the bottom, and Geno finds himself hesitant to ask his other question. Instead, he stalls.

“How come want to walk dogs now? We been here few years.”

“I just moved to the area,” Sidney says, shyly. “I was living with a… a friend for probably longer than I should have.” And Geno knows exactly what friend he’s talking about, because even though he’s been doing his best to avoid all things hockey related, he can’t really get away with it in a sports town like Pittsburgh. Some of his friends are terrible gossips, and don’t seem to care that he doesn’t care to talk about hockey.

“I saw the shelter a few days ago while I was doing my first jog in the area, and decided to check it out after I got back from a business trip.”

Geno nods in acknowledgment, and feels bad now. It’s obvious this man just wants to remain anonymous to this little pet shelter he wants to volunteer at. But, well, it would be nice to have a bit more activity, and it never hurts to ask.

“Have other question for you. Can say no, if you not want.” Sidney gestures for him to continue. “Was hoping you could maybe give review of each dog you take we could put on our twitter page, maybe with picture of you and dog?” He bites his lip as soon as the question is out, and waits.

Sidney now knows that Geno has recognized him, and wants to use his fame to maybe drum up some business for their store. He settles back into the chair and bites his own lip as he thinks, and Geno tries to let him think it through, but he’s never been good with awkward silences.

“Don’t have to, if you don’t want. Can do just the review, or no review at all. Still want you for walking dogs, if you still want.” Sidney looks up at him and gnaws on his lip for a second more before he leaned forward in his seat again.

“I think, as long as whoever is writing the tweets runs them by me before they post them, and I get to approve the picture, I would be okay with that.”

“Of course,” Geno is quick to say, “don’t want to chase away best dog walker.” That makes Sidney giggle.

“I haven’t even walked any dogs yet,” he says, but he’s still smiling. Geno shrugs.

“Get up early in morning to walk dogs. Must love having opportunity to walk so many good dogs. Must mean best dog walker.” Sidney’s smile grows, and Geno finds himself smitten but squashes that feeling down hard.

This man is a professional athlete, a hockey player. He knows how insular and conservative that world can be. He’d been a part of it for most of his life, until a few years ago. He tried not to even think about hockey anymore.

“It’s still early enough I can take a dog out, if it’s okay if I start today?” Sidney says.

“Yes, yes,” Geno says, “of course can start today. Go pick first dog.” He watches the man disappear into the back before he rubs his hands over his face.

“He’s cute,” Sara says once Geno is done wallowing.

“He’s famous hockey player,” Geno sighs back at her.

“Oh,” she says, and nothing more. She knows all about the accident, because he’d told all his employees so they could help him watch out for his back. She sighed. “That’s such a shame. He’s got a great ass,” she says, leaning on the counter to exaggerate her dreamy look.

“You could date him,” Geno says. She makes a noncommittal noise.

“You know he’s not my type.” Geno does know.

They see Sidney off with the dog he’d chosen, and then talk through the details of what the twitter posts should say.

When Sidney comes back, Geno is firmly ensconced in his office with the door closed. He doesn’t need to see what sweaty Sidney looks like, or that smile on his face that seems to exist only for the dogs in the kennels.


	2. How is he this cute?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I edited this chapter from how it was originally on tumblr because of something I put in the original that was possibly dangerous for dogs. Don't take your dogs out for exercise immediately after feeding them, as this could cause bloat, which is usually deadly. It's not just this that can cause bloat, and from what I can tell no one really knows what does cause bloat, so be cautious and watch your dogs. Don't be like crazy paranoid about it, but always be aware of your pet's usual behaviors so you can notice when those behaviors change.

It’s been three weeks since Sidney Crosby started taking a randomly chosen dog on a jog with him in the mornings. Sara and Angela have been solely in charge of making the tweets. Geno has stayed as out of it as he can.

Which means he absolutely does not check the shelter’s twitter page first thing when he wakes up every morning, no matter what Sara and Angela (or any of his so-called friends) say. He has better things to do for his daily routine than check twitter. Besides, ~~Sidney doesn’t come in every day~~ the shelter isn’t open every day. It’s closed on Mondays and Wednesdays, the days they had the least traffic those first six months when the shelter was open every day.

Besides, he doesn’t have to check the twitter feed every day, because whichever of the two girls is there when he gets in tells him _all about it_ when he comes in to work.

“Sidney took Abby and Dessy out together because he said he didn’t want to break up siblings.”

“Oh my god, I expected him to have a big deep sneeze, you know the ones that almost echo with how loud they are, but he let out the cutest little sound, and then turned bright red because I was laughing so hard.”

“He came in today in black clothes and got mauled by the golden doodle he took out, Sasha. He was covered in fur when he left.”

“Sidney had a black eye today. Apparently he took a bad hit yesterday?”

“Sidney brought a dog stroller in so he can take the puppies and cats out, because he doesn’t want to leave anyone out.”

“There was a mom and a little boy in today when Sidney got back, and they adopted the dog he took out jogging because he gave such a great review. We posted a picture of him with one of the snakes instead.”

His employees were many things, but subtle was not one of them. He had quickly learned to tune them out when they started talking in that certain tone of voice. His mother used the same tone whenever she told him about some cute guy or girl she met the other day while she was out shopping.

So Geno resigned himself to being told all about someone he was very definitely _not interested in_ from his two otherwise wonderful employees.

* * *

Just as they’re going into the fourth week, Geno gets a frantic call from Angela. One of her professors decided to change the requirements for an assignment that’s worth fifteen percent of her grade and it’s due in two days. She needs the time off, and Geno is happy to give it to her.

So the next morning, Geno’s alarm goes off much earlier than he would have liked, but he gets up and gets ready. It reminds him a little of when he first opened the shelter and was the only person working there, nine to five, seven days a week.

He gets there five minutes before they’re supposed to open with an extra large black coffee from the coffee shop down the road from his apartment. He fumbles with his keys, but gets the door open with little hassle.

He’s in the back, putting food in bowls, when he hears the little alarm he’d had installed in the back that lets him know when the front door opens. He puts the bowls aside to be distributed later, then makes his way to the front expectantly.

Sidney is standing there in a sky blue t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts, and neon-bright running shoes. He doesn’t even look tired to be up this early in the morning.

“Hey,” he says, and smiles at Geno, “it’s good to see you again.” And the thing is, Geno believes him that it actually is good to see him again, the man’s voice and face are so sincere.

“You too. Happy to see best dog walker.” He makes his way to his spot behind the counter and leans sleepily on it. “Have to wait a few minutes before you go. Puppies just waking up, still so sleepy.”

Sidney gives him a warm smile. “No problem. I got here a little earlier than I usually do because I wanted to ask Angela about that recipe she was telling me about. She not coming in today?”

Geno shakes his head. “Professor change her final project. She need few days off so she can fix, so I’m taking her shifts.”

“I’m sure she really appreciated that. Not all bosses are so accommodating.”

Geno shrugs. “She been with me long time, almost two and a half years. First employee. Know when I hire her that school comes first.” He looks up and sees that Sidney is resting his chin on his fist, his elbow up on the counter. He’s got a soft smile on his face as he looks at Geno.

“You’re a good boss.”

And again, Geno feels like Sidney actually means what he’s saying. He hides his flush by taking a long drink of hot coffee and makes himself power through the burn, knowing his tongue will suffer for it later.

“Dogs probably awake enough now,” he says once he puts his cup down, “can go find your friend for the day.”

Sidney makes his way to the back and comes out with Dante, a large black lab that comes up to his hip. Geno waves them out the door, then buries his face in his hands on the counter. How can someone who gives some of the most monotone and awkward interviews turn out to be so friendly and sincere in person?

And it’s not like he can foist Sidney off on one of his employees when he gets back, because he’s the only worker in the store, and will be until Sara comes in to help with the afternoon rush. And worse still, he knows his English still isn’t great, so he’ll have to ask someone for help writing the tweet for today.

He could always just skip the tweet for the day. Sidney not having an official twitter of his own meant that they couldn’t tag him in the tweet, and the tweets themselves weren’t getting much attention. It wasn’t like they were making a huge difference in the amount of traffic the shelter saw.

Okay, that was a lie. He had noticed that the dogs Sidney took out had a high turnover rate. Daisy had been adopted just four days after Sidney had taken her out, and most of the other’s he’d taken out had been adopted in a similarly short time. Dante was a good dog. He didn’t deserve to have his day skipped just because Geno couldn’t talk to the most attractive man he’d ever seen simply because he was also ~~a hockey player~~ the nicest person he’d ever met.

Geno shook himself out of his self-pitying stupor and made himself get to work. It was another freight day, and the truck would be here soon. Geno needed to organize the shelves and work his way through some paperwork before that got here. He would worry about the tweet when it came time.

* * *

Geno is hunched over the lip of a box, digging for that one more bag of treats he knows should be inside it when he hears the bell above the door ring.

“Be right there,” he calls back as he shifts other items out of the way. He’s just seen a promising sliver of red when he hears a strange almost choking noise behind him.

He shoots up in alarm and glances over his shoulder. Sidney is standing in the same aisle as him, cheeks red from exertion, sweat making his hair shiny and just that one shade darker. His eyes shoot up from wherever it is they’re looking to meet Geno’s.

“I just,” Sidney says, voice sounding oddly strangled. He clears his throat and starts again. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re back.”

“Yes, good,” Geno says and makes his way down the aisle to them. “Need water?” He asks as he passes him, gesturing to his own throat in explanation.

“Yeah, please,” Sidney says and follows him back to the counter. Geno grabs one of the water bottles from the mini fridge he keeps behind the counter. He slides it over to Sidney, then grabs his phone from where he’d left it next to the front computer.

Geno grabs one of the random bowls that somehow always end up around the front counter, and pours some water into it for Dante, who happily laps it up as Sidney works his way through the bottle.

“Ready for picture?” he asks once Sidney has drained half the bottle.

“Yeah,” he says. Geno rounds the counter again and follows Sidney outside into the morning light. Sidney hunkers down by Dante, who takes the opportunity to lick a long, excited stripe up Sidney’s face. Geno’s glad he had his camera ready because he gets Sidney’s look of amused disgust perfectly.

He takes two more, one with Sidney and Dante looking at each other, the other of the two facing the camera, Dante laying down in the grass and absorbing the attention Sidney is giving him.

They go back inside and drop Dante back off in his kennel, where he greedily laps up the water that’s available to him.

They go out to the front and settle on the third picture before Sidney starts gushing about Dante.

“He’s a great dog,” Sidney says, “Super calm and gentle. Probably great with kids.” And really, Geno has to stop him before he says too much and he misses it all.

“Please talk slower,” he says, typing slowly on the English keyboard. He sticks his tongue into the corner of his mouth in concentration as he types. “Calm. Gentle. How he handle on leash?”

“He’s definitely leash trained,” Sidney says. “No pulling.”

“No pulling,” Geno repeats. He stares at his phone for a moment, then sighs and shows his phone to Sidney. “Need help,” he says. “My English not so good.”

“Your English is great,” Sidney says before he gets distracted with the phone. Geno huffs.

“Been here five years. Still don’t know how to use pronouns, Angela says.” Geno grumbles.

Sidney looks up from the phone and meets his eyes dead on. “I think anyone who can learn how to communicate in a whole new language is really impressive, especially someone who moves to a whole new country and uses that language to make a living.”

Geno huffs to hide his embarrassment at the compliment. “Have friends who do better. Sound better.”

“If your friends are giving you a hard time for not being as good at English as them, fuck’em,” Sidney says as he types something out on Geno’s phone. Then he freezes and his entire face lights up like a bad sunburn. “That.. I mean… can we just forget I said that?” He asks as he hands the phone back to Geno. Geno grins at him.

“Nope. Tell all my friends Sidney Crosby says mean things about them and I’m best at English.”

Sidney laughs, and it’s endearing how unpolished it is. Geno has heard Sidney’s media laugh in odd bits of interviews he’s seen on tv as he’s flipping through channels. This laugh isn’t that. It’s more high pitched, slightly grating, and entirely charming in how imperfect it is.

Geno swallows down a groan of hopelessness. Finally, something that is arguably unattractive about this man, and somehow Geno is even more smitten.

He looks down at his phone and reads through the tweet. It looks good, and Sidney seems to approve. He hits post and then puts his phone down to find Sidney still looking at him with a side half smile.

“Even though it sucks that Angela has to redo part of her final project, I’m kind of glad her professor changed the assignment,” Sidney says low, like it’s a secret.

“Oh?” Geno says after he swallows loudly.

“Yeah,” Sidney says, making direct, earnest eye contact, “It was really good to see you again.” He gives Geno a couple seconds to say something to that, but Geno is tongue-tied. Sidney doesn’t seem to mind, just gives him a kind smile, and then bids him goodbye.

Geno waves as he walks out the door, then sags heavily in the chair for the computer. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a strangled sigh. He is so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can say that I have worked with animals now, since I worked for a pet daycare facility for a year. I just got laid off because of covid a few weeks ago, and that super sucks, but it is what it is. In theory, my boss said most if not all of us would be rehired should they reopen after quarantine is over.
> 
> Anyway, I hope those of you that have read the original like that changes I've made to make this fic safer for dogs.


	3. Denial is a close friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I missed last week's update due to a hyperfixation that consumed my attention for nearly a week, I'm double updating. Have two chapters in one day, and hopefully I'll actually update on time next week.
> 
> And I've update just one or two things in this. Nothing major, just small edits to make it better.

The day after that morning is a Wednesday, so Geno spends it laying in bed on his almost comically large heating pad because even taking it slow, freight is always murder on his back. Angela and Sara help where they can, but he’s really the strongest and tallest of the three, so he ends up doing the heavy lifting.

He takes a prescription strength ibuprofen with his breakfast and props himself up on pillows with his heating pad set on high. Then he spends as much of the day as he possibly can in that spot. His laptop is in his lap for most of it, and the tv is on, but he’s not really paying attention to it. He enjoys the background noise, and his tutor says it’s supposed to be helpful with his English.

He clears out his inbox. Mostly, it’s spam from companies that make animal products wanting him to put their products in his shelter. He deletes most of them, but keeps the ones he’s actually heard of to review at a later time.

There’s one from his brother. Since long international phone calls are hell on their phone bills, this is how they keep up with the mundane details of daily life. At the end of the email, his brother asks when he’ll be able to take some time off and either come for a visit or have some visitors. Geno makes a note to check his calendar, and fills his brother in on the little things going on in his own life.

And unsurprising but definitely unwanted are emails from different teams on the Russian league about becoming a coach. He doesn’t even read these, just deletes them with extreme prejudice and continues clearing his inbox. He clears it once a week and is always unpleasantly surprised with how full it can become in such a short time.

And then Geno sees an email he would never have expected to see. He clicks on it, and reads through it, and is still not sure it’s real. Because sitting there in his inbox is an email from the front office of the Pittsburgh Penguins organization, inviting him to bring some of his animals for the annual Pens & Paws photo shoot. He blinks at it for a moment longer, but ultimately decides the best step forward would be to ask Sidney about it the next morning. He flags the email and continues on with clearing his inbox.

* * *

The next morning, Geno’s back feels much better. He does some of the stretches his physical therapist suggested for times when he overdoes it, and is sure to grab some extra heat packs on his way out the door. He has an uneventful drive to the shelter, and actually manages to be a few minutes early.

He goes through the usual pre-opening checklist, then sets a pot of coffee percolating and waits for Sidney to come in. The door opens to said man a few minutes later. They exchange a few pleasantries, and then Sidney is on his way.

Geno gives the animals in the shelter food while Sidney is gone, making sure to put a bowl in the pen of the little boxer mix that Sidney decided to take. Then Geno begins the tedious process of filling out the seemingly neverending pile of paperwork that owning a business generates.

When Sidney comes back into the shop, sweating and flushed, Geno takes a second to memorize the look before he moves. He’s given in to the fact that he finds the man attractive, and has decided to let himself appreciate how he looks, as long as he doesn’t make it weird.

“Good run?” Geno asks. Sidney gives him a smile.

“Yeah, this little one has a lot of energy.”

“Copper is always playing. Happiest dog,” Geno agrees as he holds a water bottle out for Sidney. He accepts it, then drinks down nearly half of the bottle, head tipped back and throat exposed. Geno swallows and looks away to the dog, petting him as he drinks some water and wags his tail.

“Ready for picture?” Geno asks once Sidney finishes his bottle.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“After post, have a question for you,” Geno says.

“All right,” Sidney agrees as they make their way outside. Geno again takes a few pictures, and chooses the one he thinks is the best: Copper looking up at Sidney like he’s the sun, and Sidney looking down at Copper with fond adoration. Sidney helps him work out the phrasing of the tweet, and then it’s sent and Copper is back in his pen where he happily laps up more water and eats his breakfast.

“You said you had a question for me?” Sidney asks.

“Yes. Got email from someone who says they are Penguins front office. Invite my shelter to bring dogs for calendar photoshoot?” He pulls up the email on the front computer, then turns the screen so Sidney can read it.

“Oh,” Sidney says, then seems to skim the email. “Yeah, I mentioned your shelter to one of the people who organize our fundraising events because one of our usual shelters couldn’t do it this year. Is that okay?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Is fine,” Geno says. “Wanted to make sure it wasn’t fake.”

“It definitely isn’t fake,” Sidney says with the grin Geno’s found he uses when he finds something funny. They stand in silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, before Sidney breaks the silence. “Was that…all you wanted to ask?”

“Um, yes,” Geno says, resisting the urge to ask Sidney something he’d definitely say no to, like out on a date. “Will reply to the email, say yes, show off more of best dogs.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Sidney says. He’s still smiling, and Geno tells himself he’s imaging that Sidney looks a little disappointed. “I’ll probably see you before then, so feel free to ask me any questions you might have.”

“Yes, have whole list of questions for you next time I see you,” Geno promises.

They bid each other goodbye, and Geno watches Sidney walk until he’s no longer in view.

Now that Geno knows the email is legitimate, he quickly types up a reply before saving it in his drafts for Sara to look over when she comes in later. He spends the rest of the day making a list of the dogs and cats he thinks might be okay with the trip and all of the attention, as well as will also be the best behaved.

When he’s closing the shelter, he finds himself almost looking forward to working the next morning before he remembers he’s not scheduled. Sara’s got the next open, and Angela sent him a text saying she’d managed to finish her project and was ready to get back to work.

Geno gnaws on his lip as disappointment wells up in his chest before he viciously shoves it down. He knows he doesn’t have a chance with someone like Sidney Crosby, face of a franchise and probably straight on top of it. And even if he wasn’t, no one wants to be the first out player in such an old-fashioned organization. And Geno could never go back into the closet, not even for someone like Sidney.

He takes the scenic way home to clear his head, and reminds himself to send a list of questions to Sara so she can ask Sidney in the morning and be the official responder to the emails from the Penguins front office.

It’s better this way, he tells himself. It’s only been two days. It’ll be good to get back to his normal schedule.

He’s almost convinced himself when he goes to bed that night.


	4. Look at the cute...dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Sundays are now the days I'm updating/posting. At least, I think the last day I updated was a Sunday? Man, days don't mean anything anymore anyways.
> 
> On a lighter note, have some boys being cute and awkward. Had to change one or two things because I reread before I publish, so I catch stuff that needs changing to avoid embarrassing myself. (Although the originals are still on tumblr so it's not like the changes aren't easy to find.)

The time between that last morning shift and the day of the shoot both crawls by and shoots past Geno in the blink of an eye. It’s full of regular daily stuff, and updates from Angela and Sara on Sidney, and also the frantic scrambling of paperwork and scheduling and pulling all the details together.

But then the morning of the day dawns and Geno’s alarm goes off much, much earlier than he ever wanted his alarm to sound, earlier even than a regular morning shift. He trudges through his morning routine and barely leaves on time. Both of the girls are already there when he parks the car, and have just started working systematically to get everything together so they can leave. Geno slides right into the prep with no hassle, and they’re ready to go in almost no time.

The drive is a relatively short one, and it makes sense since Sidney probably wanted to live somewhere close to the rink. Geno wonders if any of Sid’s teammates chirped him for it. He hopes they did.

Geno pulls the work van into the spot he’s directed to, and then from there the three of them and a few helpers from the Penguins organization move them into a room where they can let the animals they brought out of their carriers and relax.

They had brought three dogs and one cat to the shoot. Angela handled the cat, a particularly prim tabby who just happened to be the friendliest cat Geno had ever met. Sara got the older dog, a one year old Whippet who’s just a little shy and needed the one on one attention. Which left Geno with the two lab puppies that were more curious than anything else, tripping over their feet and each other as they eagerly sniffed and explored the couch Geno had sad down on.

Slowly, shelters, pets, and hockey players convened. It was full of laughter and a good deal of big, tough hockey men cooing over the various animals. Geno was keeping mostly to himself, relaxing on the couch. One puppy had decided it was too early to be awake and was sleeping across his thighs, and the other was playing clumsily with his fingers.

He’s so distracted with the puppy that he misses Sidney enter the room and head in his general direction. He looks up when someone clears their throat, and meets the smile of Sidney head on. If only in the privacy of his own mind, he’ll admit that he’s missed that smile.

“Good morning,” Sidney says cheerily. Geno says something that’s an approximation of the same, but he knows it’s got a tired edge to it. “I’m glad you could make it.”

And Geno is struck again by how earnest Sidney Crosby is.

“Glad we could make it,” Geno says. “Need to show off best dogs.” He gives Sid a cheeky smile, and the man laughs that honking laugh, head thrown back and smile wide. Geno swallows against a suddenly dry mouth.

“Can I join you?” Sid asks, gesturing to the other side of the couch. Geno nods, no hands free to gesture since he’s petting one puppy, and the other is gnawing on his thumb.

The second Sidney sits, the playful puppy is more interested in the something new than Geno’s fingers. It clumsily trots over to the hockey player, and struggles to climb onto his lap. After a few moments, Sidney helps the puppy with a gentle hand, and the puppy continues up into his arms then flops down.

Geno watches Sidney coo over the puppy with a heart light with fondness but heavy with resignation. He’s completely lost whatever battle he was fighting to not become romantically attached to this sweet, earnest, and quite honestly unfairly attractive man, and it was probably lost long before this moment.

“Oh, this would be perfect for a post!” some lady in formal clothes says as she comes up to the couch, “You okay with that Sid?” Sidney smiles up at her, and Geno can’t help but notice it feels a little forced at the edges.

“Go for it,” he says. He lets her pose him just right, smiles a smile that Geno thinks almost looks real if he didn’t know what a real smile from him looked like. The woman takes a few pictures and talks with Sidney for a few minutes more before she disappears back into the crowd to find more opportunities like the one she had just captured.

“Sorry about that,” Sidney says when she’s left.

“Why sorry?” Geno asks.

“It just feels rude,” Sid says, “like I completely ignored you while she was taking those pictures when you’re a guest here.”

“Sid,” he says, “is like business deal. Good for all of us that we’re here. Good for cute animals here that might get adopted, and all pets the money go to. Good for my business, word of mouth.” Geno shrugs. “Besides, picture cute.”

“Oh yeah?” Sid asks. Geno thinks his cheeks look a little pink.

“With such cute puppy, any picture be cute. Could have no teeth, no hair, still be cute picture.” Sid scrunches up his nose.

“Thanks a lot,” Sidney gripes, and Geno sticks his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing as he shrugs.

“You know you look good,” Geno says. “Not need to hear from me when you girlfriend must tell you all the time.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Sidney says.

“A shame, girls missing out,” Geno commiserates with him.

Sid opens his mouth to say something else when he gets called away. He looks apologetic as he stands up, placing the now sleepy puppy into Geno’s waiting hands.

“I don’t have a boyfriend either,” Sid says, eyes locked onto Geno’s, who feels his widen in surprise. But then Sidney is walking away before he can get his mouth to work again, or his brain back online. He watches the man walk away from him towards the people who called him and swallows hard at the way he moves.

“ _He’s trying to kill me_ ,” Geno tells the puppy in his arms in Russian. _But what a way to go_ , he thinks.


	5. Canadian's give the nicest shovel talks

It’s a week and a few days after the photo shoot, and Geno is spending a rare afternoon alone in the store. It’s been slow lately, and he surprised his employees with a day off. It’s a nice day, and he knows they both appreciate it after the scrambling and stress the photo shoot had caused and how boring the slow times can be.

Sidney hadn’t been in that morning to walk any of the dogs, hasn’t been in since the photo shoot, not that Geno has been paying attention to that. Not that Geno has been sulking about that, worried he’d said or done something wrong in their brief interaction before things got crazy. He hadn’t even really been able to say goodbye to Sidney since the man had been kept busy from the moment they had started to the moment Geno and the ladies had left, and probably past that.

Geno idly scrapes at a bit of something caked to the counter with a thumbnail, unsure what it is but sure that it shouldn’t be there, when the bell above the door rings..

“Hello and Welcome,” he says, secretly hoping it will be one particular person. It’s not, but it is someone he recognizes, one of the players on Sid’s team.

“Hey,” the guy greets as he walks up to the counter. He’s young, long and lanky, and has an amount of facial hair too much to be considered scruff, but not nearly long enough to really be a beard. “Sid said this would be a great place to adopt a dog.”

Geno feels his smile grown. “Yes, best place. Want anything specific, or just want to browse?”

“Well,” he says–the man’s name sits at the edge of his mind, he thinks it starts with an M probably–“I was hoping for something big, something I could cuddle with that would do well in Pittsburgh winters and when I bring it back home.”

“Where’s home?” Geno asks.

“Canada,” the guy says, and Geno just resists rolling his eyes. He could have guessed.

“Have puppy, just came in. Ever heard of Newfoundland dogs?” The man gives a noncommittal shrug, clearly unsure if he has or hasn’t. Geno pulls up a picture on his phone, and begins extolling the virtues of the breed, as well as common behavior problems and the necessary care requirements.

They spend the better part of two hours going through all the necessary information–Geno fighting the urge to ask about Sidney the entire time, reminding himself to focus on the work–before Geno even shows him the puppy. It’s clumsily chasing it’s tail in it’s kennel, and trips over one of it’s front paws just as it comes into view. The man coos over it, and it’s quickly obvious the man is going to take this dog home.

“Does he have a name?” the man asks.

“Yes,” Geno says, “but is young. Can change now if you don’t like it.”

Between the two of them, they gather up a basic starter set of things the man will need for his new puppy, chatting amicably the whole time about seemingly everything but hockey.

It’s as they’re finishing up the transaction and combining everything for easier transportation that the man seems to come to a decision.

“Y’know, Sid talks about you a lot.”

Geno freezes just as he’s shoving one of several chew toys good for puppy teeth they’d selected into a bag. He swallows and looks at the man, unsure what to say.

“A few of the guys were curious, because he hasn’t talked about someone like this since the last person he dated. I drew the short straw.” He says, and gives a self-conscious shrug. “Or really, I was voluntold because I was in the market for a dog. Two birds, one stone.”

Geno gives an absent nod. “And? What you think?”

“I think I can see why Sid likes you. The question is, do you like him? And if you do, what are you going to do about it?”

Geno snorts.

“I’m just friendly store owner.” He shrugs as he says it. “What would attractive, famous, not out hockey player want with me? Balding, have a bad back, not so good English.” He could feel himself exaggerating his accent.

The hockey player gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Sid isn’t closeted,” he goes with. “Everyone on the team and in management knows he’s bi, as do his whole family. He last boyfriend came to a lot of games and a lot of family events and bonding barbecues. Just because the general public didn’t know doesn’t mean he was hiding it. He’s a private person, and he doesn’t post anything when he has a girlfriend either.

“And honestly, not to be rude, but literally no one will care what you look like, or if your English isn’t great. We have a rookie right now who only knows hockey terms and has a translator with him whenever he’s off the ice. The only thing any of us will care about is if you make him happy, make him smile, stuff like that.

“And, y’know, as long as you’re not just dating him for fame or money.” The last part is said with a dangerous edge. “Because we’ll know, and we have experience protecting our captain from people like that.”

Geno gives a derisive snort this time.

“If I wanted famous, could have stayed in Russia and been a coach. Money, same thing. Wanted to be happy, be myself, see cute animals every day.” He gestures around them. “Have what I wanted.”

“And what do you want now?”

Geno shrugs.

“Want Sidney to come back and walk best dogs again,” he answers, because this conversation makes him think maybe Sid has been avoiding the shop, avoiding him even. “Want to talk to him, see nice smile, hear awful giggle at best jokes.” He shrugs again. “Want him to ask me so I know he means it. Want him to meet my friends, want to meet his, want to get to know him outside my work and his.

“Want a lot of things,” he finishes.

He packs the last of the other man’s purchases into bags, and helps him carry them out in complete silence. The man waves at him as he drives off, and Geno waves back. Then he goes back into his shop, locks the door, and flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

It’s been slow lately anyways, and he has a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's come to my attention through my roommates that some people...don't know what shovel talk is, or at least have never heard the term. A shovel talk is just when someone threatens the love interest of someone they care about. Usually it's a parent doing the threatening, although it can be another family member or just a close friend, and it's usually before the first date, although really it can happen any time after the couple gets together. It's called a shovel talk because the general gist of the talk is something like "if you hurt them I will kill you and bury you out back/in the woods." And then usually they have a weapon with them, or the shovel they'll use to dig the hole. This has been a PSA.
> 
> Also, if it wasn't blatantly obvious, the player that comes to see Geno is Matt Murray. And apparently I headcannon him giving the gentlest of shovel talks. But let's be honest, he's got a mean resting face, and that's probably threat enough without dragging the rest of the boys into it.


	6. And the crowd goes wild (because finally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a few days late, but I've been feeling blah lately, so I wasn't really motivated. I'm ideally starting work again next week, so I'm excited for that, and ideally it'll help my mental state.
> 
> Anyways, this is the last chapter. I hope y'all like the ending.

Sidney doesn’t actually come back in the next day the shop is open, but Geno doesn’t worry about it. He knows that Sidney and his team are probably really busy with playoffs. And maybe that teammate of Sid’s hasn’t had a chance to talk to him about coming to the store. And really, with the heat steadily increasing as Spring progresses and builds into Summer, who wants to be outside running, no matter how cute the dogs in Geno’s shop are?

So no, he doesn’t worry about the fact Sidney doesn’t arrive bright and early the next morning to pick a dog to run with. (And Angela can stop giving him those knowing looks when she thinks he’s not looking. So what if he decided to change up the schedule and take on some morning shifts. Change is good sometimes.)

He doesn’t worry the next morning either, because the shop is closed for business since it’s a Wednesday, so it’s just him and the animals as he takes inventory and restocks the shelves and catches up on a seemingly never ending pile of paperwork.

But by Friday afternoon, he’s a bit worried. Or perhaps worried isn’t the right word. The conversation he’d had with Sidney’s teammate had inflated hope in his chest like a helium balloon. And like a helium balloon, it deflated just a little bit for each day that passed. And now that hope feels sluggish in his chest, not floating high to bounce on the ceiling anymore, but hovering in the middle of the room as it slowly grows smaller.

Sara actually asks if he’s feeling okay after he’s returned from lunch. Apparently he’s actually been touching his chest and making uncomfortable faces every time he lets himself stop and think about it, and he feels silly for it.

He gives her a shrug and a smile he knows is a bit strained.

“Heartburn,” he says.

“Did you take something for it, or are you being dumb and trying to tough it out?”

“Took some antacids,” he promises.

“And it’s not working?” She sounds really concerned, and Geno feels guilty for lying.

“Just take at lunch. Should start to work any minute now.”

She gives him a disbelieving look, but goes back to cleaning up a spill in one of the aisles, all the while telling Geno exactly how it happened in excruciating and extremely dramatic detail. Geno finds himself laughing, enjoying her probably highly exaggerated story and appreciating it in the spirit it’s meant.

The bell above the door jingles as Geno is in the middle of a deep belly laugh, head thrown back, one hand clutching the counter so he doesn’t overbalance and the other lifting to wipe the tears from his eyes. He opens one eye as he swipes at the other, and he’s in too good of a mood to freeze when he sees Sid standing by the door looking a little distracted.

“Sid, good to see you,” he says, not even trying to fight the smile that nearly splits his face. And if he hadn’t already known he’d fallen for this ridiculous man, he would know now, because even with that atrocious wispy attempt at a beard Sidney is still the best thing Geno has seen in days.

“Hey,” Sid says back, seemingly coming back from whatever had been distracting him, and gives a tentative half wave. He looks nervous, like he’s not sure of his welcome.

“Hey, Sid!” Sara says, leaning on her mop and waving at him, “long time no see, dude. Angela and I were going to start a betting pool on what happened to you.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, glancing between Geno and Sara.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Angela was pretty sure you were cheating on us with one of those other shelters at that photo shoot, y’know? I told her now way, but she was pretty convinced. Told me she saw you cozying up with a springer spaniel while everyone was mingling.”

“Oh, no, I…”

Sara interrupts him.

“But _I_ was pretty sure that our beloved boss somehow put his foot in it while you two were talking, because you kind of seemed to be avoiding him after that? And like, he’s been kind of moping around since then, y’know?”

“No, I…” Geno tries to cut in and save himself the embarrassment.

“Oh, well…” Sid begins.

Sara continues to talk over them.

“ _And_ G wasn’t really talking about it at all, which seemed kind of like a dead giveaway. _But then_ I was thinking that maybe _you_ put _your_ foot in it, and were too embarrassed to come back. Because G’s pretty great when it comes to communication, and he’s never too proud to apologize if he messes up.”

She stares Sidney down as she talks, no longer leaning on her mop but using all of her not inconsiderable height, shoulders squared for an encounter, one hand on her hip and the other white-knuckled on the mop handle. Geno watches it all with wide eyes, his brain screaming at him to say something to stop her tirade but unable to get his mouth to work.

“Because really, it wouldn’t make sense for G to be moping so hard if _he_ was the one that messed up, y’know? He’s a great person and he wouldn’t just let bad feelings stew if he was responsible for them. So whatever happened obviously wasn’t his fault.”

She falls silent then, making intense eye contact with the man she knows upset her boss while he gives her a decidedly deer in headlights look.

“Sara,” Geno finally breaks the silence, “take your break.” She startles.

“What? No, I…” She cuts off when Geno gives her a significant look, trying to convey that he’s not angry she apparently decided she needed to defend his honor but just that he wanted a moment alone.

“Long break.” He gives Sidney a considering look, the looks back at her. “Half hour, at least.”

“But the mess,” she says weakly, gesturing with the mop.

“Will still be here when you back.”

She gives him a narrow-eyed look.

“And you promise you won’t try to clean it?”

“Promise,” he agrees. Because hunching over the mop always makes his back ache in ways nothing else ever does and he happily leaves it to the girls. She gives a decisive nod, then walks out the front door, giving Sidney one last stink eye as she leaves.

The men look at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“I’m…sorry?” Sidney says finally. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, looking between them and Geno. Geno himself has leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.

“Don’t need to be sorry, Sidney. Nothing to apologize for.” He waves his hand like he’s erasing the apology away.

“I feel like maybe I do.”

“No,” Geno denies, “done nothing wrong. You run dogs on your time. Know you’re busy now, in playoffs.” Geno shrugs. “Not so much time for best dogs now.”

“I should have called or something.” Sidney insists.

“Don’t owe me anything, Sid.” He says it more somber than he means to, and sees Sidney flinch. He’s not looking at his fingers anymore, eyes solely on Geno.

“I did kind of drop a bomb on you then disappear,” he says, looking chagrined.

“You did,” Geno agrees, “think maybe you don’t mean it, telling me about no boyfriend. Or regret it. Maybe you realize you make a mistake to say that, realize you don’t want me.” Sidney winces.

“I did mean it. I just…I panicked. I’m not really a spontaneous kind of person. I did research on this place for like a month before I came in asking if I could walk your dogs. And telling you I wasn’t straight, that was really spontaneous. And then I started to doubt myself, y’know?

“What if I misread all of our interactions and it was just wishful thinking on my part that you were into me? And then what if me saying that made you really uncomfortable and you didn’t want to deal with me anymore? I convinced myself it was easier if I just didn’t come back.”

“Was easier,” Geno agreed. “Doing nothing always easier. But sometimes,” Geno pauses and looks around his shop with fondness, “sometimes easier isn’t best thing. Easier would mean I’m not here, in America, have no pet shop, never meet best employees.” He meets Sidney’s eyes, gives him a fond smile. “Or beautiful man with best smile and great ass.”

That gets a chuckle out of Sidney even as he turns bright red.

“One of my teammates reminded me that I play professional hockey for a living, and that I’m kind of an outspoken, opinionated pain in the ass about pretty much everything. And that I’ve probably never actually taken the easier path in my entire life up until now. And then, because he’s an asshole, he whipped me with a towel in my own kitchen and gave me a pep talk full of awful hockey innuendos.”

Geno laughed.

“Good stick handling? Work in deep and go in the back? Go in hard and fast?” Geno suggests, and sticks his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing.

Sidney groans at Geno’s awful entendres and shakes his head.

“Less sex stuff and more stereotypical sports pep talk right before the big game that happens in literally every sports movie and show that has every existed, but for dating.”

“Want to date me, Sid?” Geno asks playfully. Sidney squares his shoulders.

“Yeah, I really do. We’re flying out tonight for a couple of away games, but maybe I could take you out for dinner some time next week?”

“Would like that,” Geno agrees.

“Yeah?” Sid says, face lit up and smile wide.

“Yes. Give me your number and we’ll text, make plans.” They swap numbers, giving each other wide dopey smiles the whole time.

They stand there just staring at each other for who knows how long until the bell above the door rings and they both startle.

It’s Sara. She looks between the two of them and then rolls her eyes.

“Oh thank god, it looks like you two finally figured it out. Two more weeks, and I would have owed Angela fifty bucks.”

“How many betting pools do you two have?” Sidney asks.

“We have all the details in our texts, but maybe like fifteen?” Sara shrugs. “It keeps us entertained. All that matters now is that I won and I’m using that money on all of the pizza.” She says, and goes back to mopping after saying goodbye to Sidney.

“I’ll text you,” Sidney promises as he leaves. Geno waves at him and turns to go back to work. His phone vibrating in his pocket stops him. He checks it and smiles. He knows he must look embarrassingly besotted, but Sara’s kind enough not to say anything as he texts back or when he starts whistling to himself.

She just asks him if he wants to go out for pizza after work, and he happily accepts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm idly, slowly working on a sequel for this. Dunno if/when I'll get to posting it, but it will exist on my tumblr (ijustwanttoexist) before it gets posted to here.


End file.
